Friday, June 03, 2005

Driving Stick and making peace with the PPPP

So we got a new car on Memorial Day, a Geo Metro that gets MUCH bettergas mileage than the behemoth I've been driving. But here's thething--it's a manual. I wish I could spell that Manuel, because thenI could imagine a Latin lover under the hood instead of an obstinate5-speed engine. I know how to drive a stick. That is, I've seen itdone. I've even done it once or twice. Maybe three times. But myskills are...fair to poor. Unpracticed. I named the car Dorie afterthe confused fish in Finding Nemo to explain her jerky movements. Nowwhen I stall the kids start singing: Just keep driving, Just keepdriving, just keep driving, driving, driving. But, I've discovered 2big benefits. One, I can fill the tank for under $20. That's halfwhat I was paying for the other one, and this gets more miles to thetank as well. Two, manuals allow for more expressive driving, I'vefound. I'm often frustrated at my inability to communicate with otherdrivers, and when I'm with my kids I can't even...gesture effectively. So when someone pulls up behind me at a light, close enough to kissmy skinny plastic bumper, I can rev my engine, peal out, or even stallin front of them. I emote therefore I am.

Speaking of emoting, Tori has learned two new tricks. One isexpressing her feelings. When she gets mad, she'll ball up her littlefists, stick out her lip and announce, "I'm angry about you, Mommy."This is almost as cute as what happens when she's content and says"okie-dokie." Her second trick is that she's learned to write hername! Shocked the heck out of me. She presented me with a paperwhere she'd written: TOI. Ok, so she missed a letter. Still...So we're practing writing letters with her now. How did I not noticeshe was writing?

Which brings us to PPPP. For those uninitiated among you who may bewondering what a PPPP is, I'll tell you. PPPP stands for Pink PlasticPorn Princess, aka BARBIE, aka whore of babylon in high heels. As youmay or may not know, Hailey received her first PPPP doll for herbirthday last month. Two, actually. My dad stopped taking picturesof her opening presents after a while, and started capturing myreactions. One has a soft body, and yet still manages to maintain aDD cup. The other was dismembered by her younger brother whoapparently still remembers nursing a year later, because he strippedthe (headless) doll bare and ran around the house showing anyone whowould look, "ook! ests!" I detest the PPPP. I have since I was achild. At first I was upset my mother had forbidden the popular toy,then I saw one of my little friends playing with hers. ACK! Whywould a Ken jump on top of Barbie like that!? WHY!?! Oh, the plastichumanity! But, recent events have made me consider mending fenceswith Miss P. It seems she's decided to involve herself in the finearts, producing several movies based (rather faithfully, I might add)on ballets and classic novels (Nutcracker and Prince and the Pauper). Can she ever truly redeem herself? I'm not sure. But I'm willing togive her a chance if she's willing to pretend to think. Or act. Ordance. Or something. With her clothes on. And her head firmly attached.